A/N: This is a companion piece to chapter 40 of The Lion's Den. By request, the wedding night of Loghain and Leonie Mac Tir.
Wedded Bliss
The tribe had built a bed of pine boughs and thick fur rugs in a tent that was large and shaped almost like a cone or triangle; surprisingly warm and cozy. Glowing stones cast a soft light on the walls, bathing everything in a pale golden hue.
Loghain carefully removed the feather from her hair as she reached up and deftly unwound his braids. She ran her fingers through his unbound hair, luxuriating in the soft silky strands caressing her skin.
"I love you, husband," she declared softly.
"And I you, wife," he responded, bending to plant soft kisses along her exposed neck, his hands busy removing her fur cloak.
"You smell different," Loghain said, nuzzling her neck with persistent kisses.
"The oil they used in my bath. It's – oh," Leonie gasped as he found the particularly sensitive shell of her ear with his warm tongue. A shiver raced through her and a flush of heat spread from her belly outward, downward.
"You were saying?" Loghain asked, sounding rather smug at her reaction.
"Made from the oil of a flower found only in the – oh yes," she breathed as his lips began to descend down the length of her neck to the soft curve of her shoulder. Her head tipped back, fingers coming to tangle once more in his thick dark hair.
"You seem very distracted," Loghain hummed against her skin, humor lacing his words.
She shuddered and then stilled as his hands, once content to wrap around her waist, began to explore her curves through the thin material of her gown. "I – I am not," she protested weakly.
He straightened, leaning back. "Oh? I thought perhaps I'd stop so you could finish a sentence," he said with a smirk.
"You are impossible," Leonie sighed. She pulled him down for a kiss that started out quick and firm and turned into a melding of tongues that made any further thinking nearly impossible.
Leonie began to unlace his jerkin as the kiss deepened. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, the warm drop of her belly deliciously ticklish. Her blood was beginning to pool and slow as it heated, thrumming through her veins, a song of want and need and joy.
She pushed the jerkin off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, her fingers dancing lightly across his broad chest. He shrugged out of the shirt he'd worn beneath the jerkin and then her fingers curled in the dark downy hair of his chest. His breathing quickened as she grazed her fingertips across first one nipple and then the other, before lightly rolling one between her thumb and index finger. She pinched it lightly and he hissed with pleasure. She allowed her fingers to pinch harder.
"What is that, Loghain? I did not understand you," she asked as he growled low in his throat, leather clad hips moving against hers.
"Impudent chit," he muttered, dipping her back and letting his mouth roam freely along her exposed skin. She clutched his arms, laughing softly.
"Fine romantic talk on our wedding night," she teased as he righted her and began to study the intricate knots that held her dress together.
"What kind of knots are these?" he asked impatiently.
"Lover's knots. Only a true love can untie them," she explained, scratching at his back with long sweeps. His breath was ragged against the skin of her shoulder as he studied the knot.
"So no ripping the dress off?" he grumbled, biting at her shoulder. Her breath hitched at the heat in his voice.
"Certainly not," she moaned as his fingers found a breast through the light material.
"Maybe," she murmured a second later as his fingers pulled gently at a nipple.
"Please," she added raggedly as he applied more pressure. She was damp with desire, weak with need, as she clung to him.
His chuckle was low and deep, a rumble of noise that did nothing to cool her down. He straightened and moved his fingers to the offending knot. With a few deft flicks the knot came undone, the material sliding down her skin, baring a breast to his greedy mouth. Her hands were buried in his hair, guiding him, her head thrown back in pleasure. She was moaning from the exquisite torture of his lips and teeth on her skin.
"Loghain," she whispered urgently as he continued his slow perusal of her skin with his mouth.
"You've the patience of a child," he chided with a quirk of lips before resuming his task.
She brought her hands to play across his straining leather breeches, stroking the material and the erection beneath the material. His growl turned into a groan as she continued adding pressure with her fingers.
His lips left her skin as he straightened once more to untie the other side of her gown. He nipped at her breast, tugging gently. Next he moved his hands to the belt at her waist and with nimble fingers he untied her belt, tossing it aside as her dress floated down to pool at her feet.
"Much better," he said smugly. His rough fingers felt like satin to her skin as they played along the curve of her spine and then cupped her bottom. Her moan was captured by his mouth, his lips moving with sinuous grace along hers.
She loosened his breeches enough to allow her hands to wander within and they skimmed along the muscled curves of his buttocks, his flesh warm and taut beneath her fingers.
"Are we going to stand here all night in all these clothes?" Loghain asked dryly, pulling her to their bed of boughs and furs. She thought that highly amusing since she had not a stitch on and he was down to just his breeches.
"You have the patience of a child," she mimicked as he pulled her down to his waiting lips.
Wrapping his hand around hers, he brought it to the front of his breeches, his tone wicked as he said, "Hardly a child, wife."
Wife. She loved to hear him say the word, his rich, resonant voice caressing the syllable. Wife.
She wiggled down his chest until her mouth hovered above his leather clad manhood. He was straining against the material, his breath uneven as his fingers curled into her hair. She set about unlacing the breeches and then he was lifting his hips as she pulled the pants off, surprised at how easily they slid down his long legs. Her hands skimmed up his calves and she realized why his leather breeches had been so easy to remove. While the oil the three girls had used on her skin was sweet and musky, his smelled of the woods with only a hint of musk. She smiled up at him, her hands continuing their travels along his well formed legs.
"Shall I tease you as you have teased me?" she asked, sliding slowly up his body. He groaned, hands coming to grip her waist, eyes heavy lidded as he stared up at her.
"I would advise against it," he said in a husky voice. She bent, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth, pulling gently. His breath caught and his grip on her waist tightened.
With a deft move, he rolled them over and he was above her, eyes glazed and hot. And then he proceeded to torture her, moving with slow, deliberate kisses from the tip of her nose down to her lips, trailing along her neck and then on to her breasts where he spent time flicking her nipples with his tongue before continuing on to her stomach.
Leonie felt the world shift and still as the familiar swelling and warmth gathered in her. Loghain's tongue, wicked and hot, flicked against her bud. Her hips twitched in response. His tongue explored further, circling and teasing.
"Oh," she whispered on a wave of languid pleasure.
"Indeed?" Loghain asked, looking up the length of her body. "Is there something you need?"
Leonie tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged sharply. "You shall get burned should you play with fire," she assured him. His chuckle tickled and teased against the soft skin of her inner thigh, causing a heat deep within her to coil tightly.
"You are an evil man," she hissed, pulling his hair again. He growled, moving back up her body, skin rubbing against skin. She moaned again, her legs instinctively winding around him, pulling him, urging him to enter her.
His lips found hers and she tasted the muskiness of her passion on his tongue and then she felt the hot, hard thrust of him entering her and her cry was swallowed by his kiss as he pulled out and then plunged in again. Her eyes opened to find his own eyes intent on her as he pulled back and then thrust again. She tightened her legs around him, rocking with each thrust.
"Touch yourself," he whispered as he rolled his hips against hers. Hanging on the edge of a precipice, trembling with need, she touched her bud, watching him watch her fingers as they stroked the hard nub. He leaned back slightly before once more moving with deliberate strokes.
Her control, what little she had left, snapped. She gripped him with her other hand, nails digging into his flesh as her hips moved in rhythm with his, her voice lost to the wanton need that coursed through her in waves, her muscles contracting, tightening around him as he continued his relentless pace. She was keening his name as the waves shuddered through her and then he was arching his back, voice a low growl of release that ended with a shudder and a shiver as he spilled his seed into her, her name gracing his lips as he lowered himself to rest his head against her breasts, his heart beating wildly, breath ragged.
He finally raised his head and met her eyes. "Leonie Mac Tir," he said before kissing her lightly and rolling them both over.
"Again," she whispered, smiling.
Loghain raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not that young," he muttered, one arm tucked behind his head.
Leonie laughed, burying her head in the crook of his neck.
"What are you laughing at?" he asked, clearly offended. She shook her head, her laughter subsiding with great effort.
"I was asking that you say my name again," she finally managed before another gust of laughter claimed her. She wriggled against him and dropped kisses along his collar bone and up to his neck.
"Although I would not be adverse to such a thing."
"You'll be the death of me, Leonie Mac Tir," he grumbled with a hitch in his breath as her mouth closed around his awakening manhood.